I Would Give The World To You
by CharleK
Summary: Blaine Anderson is an established Broadway star. Having just opened in his first leading role, scandal threatens to bring it all to an end. But does that matter when he finally finds the man he's willing to give everything to?
1. I Will Give The World To You

**A/N: The intent is to have angst and fluff is semi-equal doses. This is an AU. Any headcanon questions are welcome, as many things are different in this universe than in the one we are familiar with. Thank you to my dear beta Sabrina. She's in charge of getting my grammar under control and I couldn't do it without her.**

* * *

Blaine grinned wildly as he exited the stage for the final time that night. Backstage everyone cheered as the cast came back, celebrating their first night. One of the ensemble members came up behind him and squeezed him in a tight hug.

"You were marvelous!" she beamed.

Blaine laughed as a few others passed by patting his shoulder or ruffling his hair. When she finally let go, Blaine turned around and offered a proper hug. "So were you, Kate! The extra practice paid off."

When they broke apart she gave a small shrug, "I guess, but you were the star of the show."

"I tried my best," he said, half smiling.

"Well it was outstanding."

The voice came from behind him, and Blaine turned to see his co-star, Alice.

"I couldn't have done it without you," he answered.

"Oh, but you could have, Blaine. You're phenomenal, even if you still don't realize it."

He laughed lightly as the stage director passed, offering a smile and nod of his head. It was the most positive response he'd gotten from the man in the weeks of knowing him.

"So we're all going to the bar to celebrate," Kate piped up, "Wanna come?

Blaine shook his head, "nah, I've have to get here early tomorrow to work on a few things, rain check?"

Alice shook her head, "Of course, Blaine. Just like every other time we asked."

He raised his arms as if to say _What can I do?_

The two girls rolled their eyes at his response. "Okay then, we'll see you tomorrow," Kate said before pulling Alice in the direction of another cast member.

Before the hour was over, Blaine took his things and started to make his way out of the side door. He glanced through the window, trying to gauge just how many people were waiting for him.

Hordes, and too many of them were paparazzi.

It had been the same for the past few weeks. Every time he'd leave a rehearsal or go out for a cup of coffee he'd hear, "Blaine! Have you been involved in such and such scandal?" or "Blaine! What's your next move?" He loved performing on stage. There was nothing better than bearing everything to an intent audience, but he could go without the attention he drew outside of work.

Now that he'd actually had his first opening day, he knew there would be plenty of people waiting for him outside the theater. He didn't mind the fans at all. In fact he appreciated them. The only problem was that the paparazzi usually fought their way to the front, using years of celebrity tracking experience. They cut off people who had been waiting for hours and shoved cameras in his face.

He took a deep breath before opening the door and stepping out into the cold New York air. The wind immediately began to bite at his cheeks, and he paused to zip up his jacket.

Blaine didn't even blink as the hoards of paparazzi swarmed him outside of the theater. He tried to ignore them as he signed pictures for his fans. He was bombarded with question after question, many of which were highly speculative and far from the truth.

"Mr. Anderson! How does it feel to have just headlined in what has been the highlight of your career?"

"Mr. Anderson, Mr. Anderson! Tell us, were you nervous when your partner stumbled over her lines in the second act? Will she be replaced?"

"Blaine! Can you comment on the rumors about your supposed relationship with the director? Is it true that you two had an affair?"

That was a new one. Blaine looked up at the man who'd asked the question. When he noticed Blaine's interest, he began to press for information.

"Reports say that you've been spotted out and about with the director. Is this an indication of your relationship? Does the fact that you two are dating affect your casting in tonight's production?"

Blaine blinked. He wasn't aware that there were rumors floating around, and that certainly wouldn't help him at all. If people thought that he was cast because he was sleeping with the director, his career would end with this play.

When Blaine took too long to answer, the pap started again: "So you don't deny it?"

Blaine snapped out of his shock and immediately responded with a "no comment," before signing one last head shot and slipping into the town car that was waiting on the side of the street.

When he was safely in the car, he slumped forward and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a problem someone was going to have to sort out, and one his agent would be furious about. They picked up coffee together _one time_, and there was certainly no romantic intent on his part.

Robert, his driver, glanced at his from the front seat. "Are we going home Mr. Anderson?"

Blaine shook his head, "Not yet. I need to grab a coffee or something."

"Are we going to La Crème?"

Blaine almost nodded, for that was where he went to get coffee every day. Then he realized that if he'd been photographed there recently, there would also be tons of people milling around, waiting for him to show up so they could question him further.

"Uh, not today. Could you drive around and find somewhere else? Anything that isn't Starbucks."

Robert nodded and pulled out from the side of the road.

Blaine sat up, leaning against the glass window and staring up at the city that had amazed him when he first arrived in New York ten short years ago. It still reminded him why he was there on a daily basis; the city, the people, the excitement. If only he could experience all of that without having to give up the privacy fame had taken from him.

When the car rolled to a stop some ten minutes later, Blaine glanced out the window to ensure there wasn't anyone waiting for him outside. It looked clear enough.

"Thanks Rob, do you want me to bring you anything?"

"That won't be necessary sir," he answered a bit too stiffly for Blaine's liking.

"No need to call me sir, and I might bring you one of those muffins you're so fond of—cranberry-orange is it?"

"Thank you," He responded, smiling at Blaine's gesture.

Blaine nodded and opened the door, sliding out of the car before letting it swing shut behind him. He finally got a good look at the coffee house. It was a twenty-four hour shop, and it looked relatively plain from where he stood. A black door stood against a green wall. As he approached, he noticed that the door had been covered with chalk board paint, and notes and specials were written on it in a clean cursive.

The door rang when he entered the relatively empty shop. There were a few patrons scattered around, writing furiously on their laptops.

As Blaine approached the counter, digging in his pocket and counting out a few bills, a man came from the back, wiping his hands on a dish rag before stuffing it in his back pocket. Blaine didn't see how the man stopped for a moment in his tracks, or the tiny "o" his lips made in recognition.

By the time Blaine had looked up, the Barista had regained his composure and was crossing the last few steps to the register.

"Hello!" he greeted cheerily, "what can I get for you today?"

"A medium drip please. And do you have..." Blaine trailed off as his eyes wandered to the pastry display. He glanced at the muffins, noticing that the area behind the cranberry-orange sign was empty save for a few crumbs. "Oh, it looks like you're out."

The Barista followed Blaine's line of sight, and noticed the empty space. "Oh, yes. Cranberry-orange is out best seller. But if you ask me," he whispered, leaning in dramatically, "the orange scones are even better."

"Really?" Blaine raised his eye brows. "Okay, I'll take one of those then. Actually, make it two."

"Great," he said, pressing a few keys on the register, "will that be all?"

Blaine nodded, "I'll take the pastries to go, please. I've got someone waiting on me in the car."

"Alright, that'll be $5.30," the man said before accepting the cash from Blaine. He then got to work wrapping up the scones. When he turned to fill Blaine's coffee, Blaine couldn't help but notice his lean, lithe figure. He looked on in admiration and felt a slight hint of jealousy. If there was one thing he wished he could change about himself, it was his short, compact stature. This man making his coffee was graceful, and moved with a fluidity Blaine wished he had.

When he turned to grab a lid for the coffee, Blaine tore his eyes away from the man's body and made eye contact.

He smiled brightly when the Barista handed him the bag and coffee.

"Here you go. I hope you like the scones."

"Thank you," Blaine responded. "If they're any good I might have to come back for more." Blaine set his coffee on the counter and reached out his hand. "My name is Blaine Anderson, by the way."

He thought he saw a slight smirk at the mention of his name, but it quickly disappeared and was replaced with a genuine smile as he took Blaine's hand, "Kurt Hummel. I hope to see you back here Mr. Anderson."

Blaine nodded and lifted his coffee, offering one last glance before heading out the door.

When he was in the car again a couple minutes later, he had to admit that it was the best tasting scone he'd ever had, and he was definitely going to come back again.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! As usual reviews and comments are welcome.**


	2. The Role We Play

Blaine groaned when he heard his alarm go off the next morning. He buried his head under his pillow, hoping that he could ignore the alarm and fall back asleep. When this proved to be inefficient, he rolled off the bed and stumbled to his dresser, swiping his phone and silencing the incessant beeping. As his phone returned to the home screen, he caught sight of his notification bar, which indicated that he'd missed multiple calls.

He sighed and unplugged his phone from the charger, not even glancing down as he opened his voicemail and headed for the bathroom. He was expecting Rachel's voice on the other end, stressing about her pronunciation of a single word. Before he went to NYADA, he had thought his obsession with perfection was borderline insane. Once he met Rachel Berry though, he quickly realized that compared to her, his practice schedule seemed almost sensible.

_You have 8 unheard messages. First unheard message:_

"_Blaine Anderson! You better hope the newspaper I'm holding in my hands right now is lying or you are in a whole mess of trouble."_

Blaine furrowed his brows. This definitely wasn't Rachel. Cady, his PR agent, never sounded that agitated. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together, because she always managed to keep calm in the worst situations. He deleted the next message, waiting for it to play.

_Message erased. Next unheard message:_

"_Blaine, seriously I need you to call me back."_

"_I'm getting calls from the agency. Call me, ASAP."_

"_Goddamnit Blaine! If I don't hear from you in an hour, I am coming over. And if you aren't home so help me god—"_

Blaine didn't even bother going through the rest of the voicemails. He dialed Cady's number and held the phone up to his ear.

It barely rang once when she answered.

"Blaine!" she hissed, "Where have you been? I've been calling you all morning!"

"I'm sorry, the phone was on silent. I only just woke up."

"I'm assuming you haven't seen anything yet then?"

"How bad is it?"

There was a silence on the other line, and Blaine felt something in his heart drop. It didn't matter that he hadn't _done_ anything to put his reputation or job in jeopardy. Rumors enough could be enough to bring him down.

"Apparently someone photographed you and David doing the deed and sent those pictures to every possible magazine that runs theater news. The gossipy ones didn't even bother checking with me before running the story, but I've got ten editors on hold waiting to speak with me and confirm. _Ten editors!_ I told you to be careful. I told you to make smart choices. You're nearly thirty for Christ's sake! He's married!"

Blaine stood on the line, his mouth gaping as Cady continued to chastise him over the phone. David? As in director-of-the-show-David-Kessler? Impossible. By the time he processed the news, she was absolutely livid.

"Cady, calm down."

"**FUCK IF I CALM DOWN BLAINE! **You could _burn_ for this!Your entire public image is built around the fact that you're the sweet, lovable, wide-eyed, innocent rising star! Some people can get away with this. Like Santana, she could get away with this. But you?"

"Cady! I didn't do it!" Blaine cut in. "I didn't sleep with him! I never have, he's never even offered. Outside of the one morning where we ran into each other and picked up coffee, I've never seen him outside of a professional setting."

Blaine heard Cady huff, and he could practically see her trying to calm down. "You're positive?"

"Yes I'm positive I didn't have sex with my director. I feel like that's something I'd remember."

"Even if you say you didn't do it, the picture kind of claims otherwise. It isn't clear, and heavily shadowed, but it still looks a lot like you. Given that you're in his show, it gives people enough reason to think it is."

"I swear it wasn't me!"

"Okay fine Blaine, but I need you to come in to the office today. There is damage control to be done."

"But I have a show tonight," Blaine responded, picking up his toothbrush from the holder next to the sink.

"I'll do my best to get you out as soon as possible, but I need to see you in person. We'll need a statement from you, a possible press release from the show, and a few other things."

"Alright, I'll be there in an hour," Blaine sighed.

"Quickly, then. I'll see you soon."

Cady hung up before Blaine had a chance to say goodbye. He set down his phone and started getting ready for what he already knew was going to be a long day.

* * *

As Blaine left his apartment that morning, he decided that he wasn't going to get through the day if he didn't have some sort of caffeine in his system. Remembering the place from the night before, he headed in its direction.

He absently made his way down the streets of New York, checking his phone each time it buzzed with a new notification. Text after text appeared from people he knew, asking him if the rumors were true. A couple nasty ones not-too-subtly implied that they weren't surprised with the events. Blaine tried not to let those comments get to him. He knew the rumors weren't true. Why let others shame him for something he hadn't done?

When he found the coffee shop, he stepped inside and was greeted by the typical morning rush. Four baristas ran back and forth, pouring coffee and steaming milk and calling out orders. He quickly scanned the workers: one girl and three guys. None of them resembled the man from the night before.

It made sense. Even if this was a 24- hour shop, the employees wouldn't be here for entire days. Blaine waited patiently in line, and ordered his typical medium drip when it came time. He picked up another scone before paying the cashier and hustling back out the door.

* * *

As he approached the agency's office building, Blaine noticed a few reporters milling about the entrance. They were never allowed in, but they often hung around hoping to force a comment out of a celebrity or two about the latest scandal. Blaine grimaced and tried to edge around them while keeping his head down.

He held his breath the entire way in, only letting go of the tension once he was safely inside the building. He nodded at the receptionist and made a beeline for the elevator.

He was so focused on getting to Cady's office as quickly as possible, that he didn't notice there was someone else getting on to the elevator with him. He hit the button for the fourteenth floor and began nervously tapping his foot, griping on to his coffee with more force than he should have.

"Hey, are you alright?"

Blaine jumped at the sound, spilling some of his coffee on his shoe. He cursed silently and turned to see a sandy-blond haired man. A guitar case was leaning against his side, and he was tall enough that Blaine had to tilt his head slightly to make eye contact. He couldn't help but think he'd seen his face before, but couldn't pinpoint why he was so familiar.

"Um, yeah. I'm okay," Blaine answered and averted his eyes.

The other man shrugged. "If you say so."

There was a slightly awkward silence as the elevator climbed higher and Blaine tried his hardest to keep himself to nervously fidgeting again.

"You're Blaine Anderson, right?" the other man piped up.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, that's me."

"No way! I saw you during your show last night!"

Blaine's eyebrows raised in surprise and gratitude. "Really? You saw Laila? You don't seem like th Broadway musical type."

The man shrugged, "Who says there is a type? Anyway, you were amazing. At the end when you had that solo," he whistled. "I wanted to stand up and belt that last note with you. It was so. Good."

Blaine looked at the ground and smiled, "Thank you. I spent weeks trying to get that right."

The elevator slowed to a halt and gave off a soft _ping_ as Blaine reached his floor. Unexpectedly, the other man stepped off with him and began walking in the same direction. Blaine gave him an inquiring look when they approached the door to the PR offices.

"What did you say your name was again?" Blaine asked.

"Sam Evans. Up–an-coming country star who decided it's time to get a PR agent."

Blaine nodded in understanding and opened the glass door in front of him, "Well then Sam Evans, your future awaits…"

Blaine gestured dramatically through the doorway, and Sam laughed as he entered. "Thanks,"

"My pleasure," Blaine smiled. It was short lived, however. The second Cady noticed he was there she stormed over to Blaine and grabbed him by the collar.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, Anderson," she growled.

Blaine gave Sam an apologetic smile as Cady pulled him away, hoping Sam wouldn't be to disgruntled with his sudden departure.

Not twenty seconds later, Cady had all but thrown him into the chair across from her desk and started shuffling through her papers. Her office looked like a disaster, and the blinking red light on the phone indicated that she had someone on hold.

She pulled together a stack of papers and magazines and dropped them in Blaine's lap before sitting in her chair with a huff.

"Now, you say it isn't you, so tell me who it is then?"

Blaine squinted at the picture splayed across the front of the gossip magazine. It did look like him: short, compact stature, and curly hair. The face was indistinguishable, only a fraction of it even turned to the camera. It wasn't him. Blaine knew this for a fact.

He looked at Cady, who—at only nine in the morning—looked like she was ready to get back in bed. "I don't know what to tell you other than what I already said. I know I didn't do it, and this isn't me."

She laid her head on the table and took a few deep breaths. "I know, I know. The problem is that not everyone else does."

"The only people who've printed it are the gossip magazines. No one believes those anyway."

"That's the problem. If it was only you, and only the gossip magazines, it wouldn't be a big problem. But…"

"But what?" Blaine asked when Cady trailed off.

She swiveled around in her chair and picked up a newspaper from the top of her filing cabinet.

_The New York Times_

"Flip to the Arts section. Front page."

Blaine quickly found the page and scanned the article.

"Dear god please no."

Cady looked up at him, nodding solemnly. "I'm afraid so. She went behind her manager's back and spoke directly to the reporter. As long as she claims it's true, it's taken as is, and it makes _your_ problem a lot more plausible.

Alice. There in the world's most published paper she decided to give an exclusive interview about how she landed the lead role of Laila even if she'd been a lowly ensemble member just a few months before.

Sleeping around, bribing. Apparently the guilt was "eating her from the inside," and she had to tell someone. So she chose to tell everyone.

"I had no idea," Blaine said, letting the papers slump down in his lap. "No idea. She didn't have to do it. She was good enough without it."

"I know, Blaine. We can't worry about her right now, though. I need to get a statement out about you and your lack of involvement."

Blaine nodded, "What do you need me to do?"

"I just need you to read over what I've written, make sure it's accurate, and sign it. We'll release it in an hour or so."

"Alright. I only have about thirty more minutes before I have to go to the studio, though."

"About that Blaine…"

Blaine froze as Cady paused, knowing what she was going to say before she uttered another syllable.

"Laila is being put on a forced hold until this can all be sorted out. You have three more nights and that's it for now. Once there is a new director, production will start again but… I'm already hearing mutterings of a total recast. Everyone has to re-audition, and it looks like they're going to try and replace all the main actors."

"But… they can't. It's my first show. I—" Blaine cut off and felt his face grow hot. "They can't."

"I'm sorry, Blaine. I know it isn't your fault." Cady circled around the table and leaned down to hug him tight. "You're talented, I'm sure we'll find something for you."

Blaine took a moment to collect himself, breathing deeply when Cady let go. "So what about Alice? The next three days?"

"This is what understudies are for."

Blaine bit his lip and nodded. Of course.

Cady gave him one last pat on the shoulder, "I'm going to grab the statement from the printer. I'll be right back, okay."

"Okay," he answered, not feeling okay at all.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews and comments are welcome as always. I do hope to get these updates out sooner, now that I have a clear idea for the fic. Thanks guys!**


	3. A New Beginning

The hour passed by in a blur. Cady handed Blaine several documents in quick succession. Some required a signature, some were copies of released articles, and one was a list of answers to any question a reporter might ask.

"Do I really need this?" he asked, glancing at the three page sheet after he'd finished with the final article. "I'm supposed to refuse comment most of the time anyway."

"I know, Blaine. I know. It's just in case you feel pressured or feel like you might slip. We have to keep this as contained as possible." Cady ran out to her secretary's desk and hurriedly gave her a few instructions to ignore any incoming calls. He sighed audibly and read through a few of the bullet points.

"Do you still need me here?" he asked as his agent bounced back in, barely acknowledging his presence.

"Uh, no we're good, but Chris called. You don't need to come in until four this afternoon."

"Great" Blaine muttered under his breath as he lined up the papers in his lap and set them on the counter. He stood up and took out his phone, checking for any important messages.

"Oh even better," he said, seeing that his mom had called only a few minutes before.

Cady looked up at him, her sandy blond hair covering half of her face. "Please don't tell me there's something else."

Blaine shook his head. "Just family—I'll see you tonight then?"

"Right. I'll be there a little before you go on. I'm sorry I missed it yesterday," she said earnestly. She stood up and stretched her arms out in front of her. "My baby Blaine all grown up and headlining one of the biggest shows of the season and I wasn't even there for the opening."

Blaine laughed and stepped forward, accepting the hug. "You know I don't mind. Your kid's recital is more important anyway."

She dropped her arms and laughed, "You'd think, but Aiiden just wanted to skip the entire thing to see you. He threatened to run off the stage at one point."

Blaine chuckled, thinking of the small, blonde seven-year-old that was more melodramatic than Rachel Berry herself. "How'd you get him to perform?"

"I promised him ice cream after," she shrugged.

Blaine barked out a laugh. "Of course. Ice cream always does the trick." The phone lit up in Blaine's hand, and he glanced down to see his mother calling him for the second time. "I should probably get going and do some damage control of my own."

Cady nodded understanding. "Alright, call me if anything new comes up."

"Will do," he said, moving towards the door.

"Stay out of trouble!" She yelled after him.

Blaine turned around and mockingly saluted her, "Yes ma'am."

* * *

"Yes mom, I promise I'm fine." Blaine crossed the street, using years of practice to avoid being trampled by the crowd around him.

"I really hope you aren't lying about this. I trust you, Blaine, but the world might not."

"I promise on your fish's life, I'm clean and chaste."

"About that…Mickey died. I'm sorry, Blaine."

"What do you mean he died? Did you not feed him?"

"Well, no. The cat got to him. I just came home one day and he was gone. The bowl was shattered on the ground and Rosie was soaking wet. So yeah, he's gone."

Blaine let out a huff of air as he swerved to avoid a teenager skating down the sidewalk. "Okay, then I swear on Rosie's life that I am clean and chaste."

"Blaine! What's Rosie ever done to you?"

Blaine rolled his eyes at his mom's teasing. "Very funny, mom. I'll stop by the apartment tonight, okay?"

"Okay. I'll make lasagna, your favorite. You probably could use some right now. …And Blaine?"

"Yeah?" he stopped right outside of the entrance to Central Park, noticing the groups of people scattered around him.

"I'm proud of you, honey. You were amazing last night."

Blaine smiled and looked down, studying the scuff on one of his shoes. "Thanks, mom. That means a lot coming from you."

He could hear her smiling on the line, and knew what she was thinking. "I'm sure if your dad could have come—"

"Let's—please don't," he cut off uncomfortably.

"I know. I'm sorry."

There was an awkward silence on the line as Blaine tried to hold back words.

"So, I'll see you tonight?" Blaine's mom finally said.

"Right."

"Okay, bye Blaine. I love you."

"Love you too," he responded. The connection cut off and Blaine let the phone fall down to his side. Almost immediately it lit up again. He answered it without checking the number.

"Hello?"

"Blaine! What are you doing right now? I just finished my audition and I realized I have nothing left to do today. Want to grab an early lunch?"

"Rachel, I don't know. This hasn't been the best day."

"I know, Blaine. I've heard what happened, but don't let those slut-shaming losers get you down. It's not _only _your fault."

Blaine grit his teeth, "I. Didn't. Sleep. With. The. Director."

"Fine. No need to get feisty with me. So, lunch? Yes? No?"

"Um…" Blaine glanced around him. He was planning on sitting in the park for a few hours just to kill some time and clear his mind. But maybe he needed someone to talk to, even if that someone happened to be the incredibly nosy but supportive Rachel Berry. "Okay. You know where I am."

"I'll be at the park in fifteen minutes."

"Right, okay."

Blaine wandered to an isolated bench and sat himself down, staring blankly ahead while a little girl chased a piece of fuzz floating in the air. It wasn't until five minutes later that the entire day decided to hit him in the chest.

Blaine suddenly realized how precarious his life and reputation was at the moment. One little push and he would never recover from the scandal. His entire career rode on how well the general public took the news, and how sensationalized the stories about him would become. Ten years would have gone down the drain.

"Oh god" he whispered to himself. He leaned back, staring up at the sky in an attempt to hold back any tears of frustration. It just wasn't fair. None of it was fair.

Despite his best efforts, a few tears escaped and slid down his face. He didn't bother wiping them off, but focused on keeping any new ones from forming. He stared at a stray cloud in the sky.

"Excuse me, but are you alright?"

Blaine tore his eyes away from the bright blue and white and blinked a few times. He thought he was imagining the lean, structured man in front of him for a second, but realized quickly that _yes this is the guy from yesterday._

"Oh, hi. Yeah. I'm fine." He composed himself as quickly as possible. _Well this is embarrassing. _"You're Kurt, right? From the coffee shop?"

The man's face lit up for a moment, as if he couldn't believe that someone had bothered to remember his name. "That's me. And I don't want to be rude, but you don't really look okay. No one should be crying by themselves in one of the biggest cities in the world."

"It's a big city, but that doesn't mean people aren't lonely."

Kurt shrugged, "Maybe. Or maybe it just gives us more chances to meet everyone else. I mean, I've only just met you last night and here you are again."

Blaine fell silent. He hadn't thought of the city that way in a while. In his few years he'd hardened himself to the crowds. He was Blaine, and everyone else was just… everyone else. Of course there was Rachel and Cady and his mom, but he knew something wasn't completely right.

"So, you don't have to tell me anything, but I'll sit here while you cry. So you have someone."

Blaine didn't respond, he stared at Kurt, not knowing how to react. He was still upset about everything that had happened, but now he was becoming sentimental about a place where he already lived. More importantly, Kurt managed to remind him of how alone he felt every day. In just a few sentences, he shook everything around Blaine. And now he was just… sitting there, sipping something from a plain white mug and staring straight ahead. He felt like he needed to say something, but he didn't know what.

"My fish died today," he blurted before he could stop himself. "Well, it used to be my fish, when I lived at home. It was almost immortal. It's been alive forever and my mom told me today that it died. Well… the cat ate it, but either way I don't have a fish anymore."

Kurt turned to Blaine and raised an eyebrow. "I guess the fish meant a lot to you?"

"No. Not really."

"I'm lost."

"It was a jerk. I would feed him, and he would just eat the food. No thank you or even a little fin wiggle in response."

Kurt burst out laughing, nearly dropping his drink in the process. Laugh lines appeared around his face, and Blaine caught a glimpse of the man's teeth. By the time he composed himself, Blaine was grinning himself.

"Well I guess the fish had it coming then," Kurt finally said.

"I guess so," Blaine responded, laughing himself.

"BLAINE!" a voice called from not ten feet away.

"Jesus, Rachel I'm right here."

"Oh! I'm sorry I didn't see you there."

Somehow, Blaine and Kurt managed to share a look. Blaine was surprised at how immediate the reaction had been. He paused for a moment and looked again at Kurt, tilting his head with interest. He'd just met Kurt, but somehow they were already able to connect without even thinking.

Rachel subtly cleared her throat and Blaine snapped to attention.

"Right, um Rachel this is Kurt. Kurt, this is my friend Rachel."

Kurt held out his hand, "I know who you are Miss. Berry. I was at charity Les Mis performance two months ago. Your Eponine was phenomenal."

Rachel gave a wide, open mouthed smile, surprised that she was meeting a fan. "Nice to meet you… Kurt was it? I can't think of why Blaine didn't introduce us sooner."

"We only just met," Kurt answered, giving Blaine a knowing look.

"Wait, you're interested in theater?"

Kurt just nodded, "I'm a musical theater major myself."

"Huh," Blaine said.

"We were both musical theater majors too! Well technically Blaine was a double major in English and musical theater but he's an overachiever." Rachel was speaking at a million miles an hour now that she knew she had an interested audience. Blaine just stood there, with a half open mouth, staring at Kurt.

When she finally paused long enough to take a break, Kurt politely cut in.

"So, it was an honor meeting you guys, but my friend is expecting me, so I should…" Kurt gestured behind him.

"Right, of course, it was wonderful meeting you, Kurt!" Rachel beamed.

"You too." Kurt turned directly to Blaine, "I work Mondays, and then Thursdays through Sundays. Always from Seven PM to Midnight"

"O-okay. I-I'll stop by," Blaine stuttered.

"Great! See you around!"

Within moments, Kurt was gone.

"He knew the whole time." Blaine whispered in a slight daze.

"What was that?"

"Kurt knew who I was, but he didn't say anything."

"And that's a good thing?"

"Yeah, it really is."

* * *

**A/N: I'm sorry for the late update! This will start turning over faster soon. Promise! **


	4. Another Chance to Turn It All Around

By the end of the week, Blaine was just a tiny bit thankful that he no longer had to deal with Laila until the new auditions in two weeks time. It stung that the night before could possibly be his last show, but it wasn't worth the attacks from the media and people he didn't know very well. Too many of them blamed him for the end of the production, despite what he might have said.

One Tuesday night, Blaine found himself sulking about the city. He really didn't have anywhere in particular to go, but he wasn't too anxious to get back home. He'd briefly considered finally heading over to the 24- hour coffee shop where Kurt worked, but decided he'd rather not have one of their first _real_ interactions to be tainted by his bad moods.

So Blaine wandered aimlessly, not paying much attention to his surroundings. Occasionally he'd run headfirst into someone who likely had their own problems to deal with. His phone buzzed in his pocket over and over with notifications, texts, and emails. He'd stopped checking those days before, opting to sift through all of them late at night before he went to sleep. If it was important, someone would call him.

Soon enough, Blaine found himself in front of a small, but chic, Italian pastry shop, trying to decide if it was worth it to go inside and buy a nine dollar cannoli. He didn't stir when the door to the shop opened and closed.

It wasn't until he heard a voice that Blaine bothered checking who was there.

"Are you coming in or planning on standing there until someone brings you food outside?" a familiar voice asked.

Blaine looked up, noticing that he recognized the face in front of him.

"Oh, hi. Sam, right?"

"The one and only," he responded, leaning against the front entrance. "and _you_, Blaine Anderson, have been standing outside of that window for long enough for those pastries to sell out."

"I know, I know. I haven't really been 100% here lately. I'm sorry." Blaine shook his head. "Anyways, what have you been up to?"

"Oh, not much. A little sightseeing, a few shows in semi-small venues. I'm mostly just killing time until I can get down to Tennessee to start recording again."

"Right, because you are a country singer."

"A country singer that wants to get back to his coffee. Are you coming in or what?"

Blaine shrugged and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, "Okay, sure."

Sam opened the door wider and gestured for Blaine to enter, following closely behind.

"I'm sitting over there if you want to join," Sam said, pointing to the bar-like seating near the windows.

"That'd be great!" Blaine responded. "I'll just go grab something and be right back."

Sam nodded, returning to his seat. He hopped onto the stool, took out his phone, and began scrolling through it while he waited.

Blaine only took two minutes to get his food. He hesitated a moment before deciding to sit down next to Sam, offering a pleasant smile while he set his things down.

"So," Sam started, putting down his phone, "how are you holding up?"

Blaine winced at the question he'd heard one too many times. "In general? Or regarding my work issues?"

Sam shrugged, "either or, whichever you want to talk about. I'm not nosy."

Blaine smiled, his face not fully showing the relief he felt at not having to explain to Sam that this had pretty much been the worst week of his life for various reasons. "Oh, well in general I guess I'm alright?"

Sam raised his eyebrows, taking a sip from his coffee mug. "Really? That's impressive. From some of the things I've seen thrown around, I'm kind of surprised that you are still in New York. I would be long gone by now."

"Yeah," he sighed, looking down at his cup. "I try not to think about it too much. This entire ordeal has been a mess but I've got to keep moving, you know."

Sam nodded. "What are your plans now? Are you still going to audition in a few weeks?"

"Maybe." Blaine straightened himself out, shifting his plate and cup until they were neatly lined up in front of him. "It doesn't even matter how well I do, though. They could easily decide not to hire me for the principle of it. So we'll see, I guess."

Sam didn't say anything for a minute, realizing that all this talk of the show was eating away at Blaine. He searched Blaine's face for a moment, thinking hard.

"Are you doing anything today?" he finally asked.

"Probably not."

"When was the last time you went to see some live music, Blaine? I'd bet my guitar it's been a while."

He laughed, because it was true. Blaine thought of the multiple invites to concerts he'd turned down in the past few months thanks to Laila. It all seemed pretty ridiculous now, that he'd spent nearly a year of his life only caring about getting his lines right and meticulously perfecting his choreography and now it couldn't matter less.

"If by a while you mean nearly a year, then yes."

Sam blinked at him before clicking his tongue and downing the last of his coffee. "Well then, I know what you are doing today."

He stood up a bit forcefully and motioned for Blaine to follow him. Blaine was a little confused with Sam's sudden movements. "Where exactly are we going?" he asked, slowly standing up and picking up his dessert.

"There's an open-mic today at a bar near….NYADA I think it is? I was debating on going today, but you are in dire need of something fun and partially pointless right now. We're going, and you are not allowed to say no.

Blaine only paused a moment before following Sam out of the door. After all, it wasn't like he had a musical to perform in the next day.

* * *

"Dude you totally have to sing something," Sam said a little too loudly. "Teach these college kids how it's done."

Blaine laughed, bending over his drink and shaking his head. "I don't think so, I haven't done an impromptu performance since I went to NYADA myself."

"All the more reason!" Sam hollered, pushing Blaine lightly.

Blaine shook his head again, feeling light and giddy. He wasn't _drunk_ per se, but buzzed enough that everything around him felt a little less serious, and the pressure on his shoulders a little lighter.

"Nah, I'll just watch a few kids sweat their way through their ballads."

Sam huffed out a breath of air, "Fine." He offered an over exaggerated pout, before suddenly changing his expression again. "I'll be right back, bathroom."

Blaine nodded, waving him off and finishing off his drink.

Blaine leaned back against the counter, sweeping his eyes across the crowd. All of the kids there reminded him so much of his former self. Excited and scared. Intimidated and empowered. Sometimes he missed that feeling of innocence. Then again, it was not bad being a Broadway star.

Or, well, ex Broadway star.

He grimaced to himself at the thought and forced himself to turn back towards the stage where a girl had just sat herself in front of the piano, getting ready to perform.

"Ten bucks says she's about to do a stripped down version of a top forty song right now."

Blaine's head whipped around, recognizing the voice instantly. "KURT!" he exclaimed a little forcefully, causing a few people near him to turn around.

"Well, hi there." Kurt responded, sitting down next to Blaine.

Blaine stared a Kurt for a few beats, his facial expression unreadable.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, it's just that… you're really pretty. It makes me jealous."

Kurt furrowed his brows in disbelief. "Uh huh, if you say so."

"No I mean it. Not pretty like girl pretty. Just pretty like your face is nice to look at."

Kurt burst out laughing, bringing his hand up to cover his mouth. He shook from the force of the laughter, eye crinkling at the corners that told Blaine the laughter was genuine.

"Blaine, you are drunk."

"I'm not drunk," he affirmed. "I only had two drinks."

"Lightweight," Kurt muttered loud enough for Blaine to hear.

He gasped in false shock, "Am not!"

"Whatever, tell that to your hangover tomorrow."

Sam chose this moment to return from the restroom, not really questioning why someone else had taken his seat. Before he could say anything to Kurt, Blaine had grabbed him by the front of his shirt and brought him in between himself and Kurt.

"Sam, tell Kurt I'm not drunk," Blaine nearly whined.

"Um… Hi Kurt. He isn't drunk?" Sam said a bit hesitantly.

"Yes he is."

"He's definitely tipsy," he half whispered, "but we won't tell him that."

At that moment, the girl on stage had just finished up her song, and she left the stage. No one rushed to take her spot, and it stood empty for a few minutes.

"You should go up there," Kurt said, looking at Blaine.

Blaine opened his mouth to immediately protest, but Sam cut him off before he could utter a single word.

"That's what I told him! But he won't go."

"That's ridiculous. Blaine Anderson with stage freight?"

"I don't get stage freight," Blaine answered indignantly.

Kurt crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow, "Okay. Prove it."

Blaine gathered himself up and headed straight for the stage, sitting himself down in front of the piano and laying his fingers across the keys before realizing that he didn't actually have a song.

He thought for a moment before angling the microphone to catch his voice and looking up into the audience where Sam and Kurt sat eagerly.

"So you guys might not know this song, and I'm only doing it because _that_ guy over there thinks top forty songs aren't cool," Blaine pointed straight at Kurt, who chuckled in response.

_I was left to my own devices  
Many days fell away with nothing to show_

And the walls kept tumbling down  
In the city that we love  
Great clouds roll over the hills  
Bringing darkness from above

Blaine paused dramatically, looking up at the audience that had grown more quiet for him than for other performers. He could tell that a few people around him recognized his face and voice, and a few whispers were beginning to circulate.

_But if you close your eyes,  
Does it almost feel like  
Nothing changed at all?  
And if you close your eyes,  
Does it almost feel like  
You've been here before?  
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?  
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?  
_  
_We were caught up and lost in all of our vices  
In your pose as the dust settles around us_

Blaine made the song heavy. He took his time on each note, giving each word power and meaning. It was partly from habit, but he also did it for himself. He felt each word until the meaning began to strike him in the chest. His world had been falling apart, and he wished nothing more than to close his eyes and pretend the last week hadn't happened.

_And the walls kept tumbling down  
In the city that we love  
Great clouds roll over the hills  
Bringing darkness from above_

But if you close your eyes,  
Does it almost feel like  
Nothing changed at all?  
And if you close your eyes,  
Does it almost feel like  
You've been here before?  
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?  
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

Oh where do we begin?  
The rubble or our sins?  
Oh where do we begin?  
The rubble or our sins?

He paused again, looking up and locking eyes with a few audience members before letting his eyes slide closed again as he finished off the song. This time he let it build in strength, pushing through the power of his voice.

_And the walls kept tumbling down  
In the city that we love  
Great clouds roll over the hills  
Bringing darkness from above_

Until finally, it all came crashing down.

But if you close your eyes,  
Does it almost feel like  
Nothing changed at all?  
And if you close your eyes,  
Does it almost feel like  
You've been here before?  
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?  
How am I gonna be an optimist about this?

If you close your eyes, does it almost feel like nothing changed at all?

When he finished there was a split second where nobody moved, until Sam stood up from his chair and began hollering from his chair.

"WOO BLAINE!"

Suddenly everyone was clapping and Blaine felt the sudden urge to throw himself off of the stage. He smiled politely and hurried off, meeting Sam and Kurt again.

"See, I don't have stage freight AND I'm not drunk. No one can sing well when they're drunk."

"Of course, Blaine," Sam answered.

Kurt pulled out his phone, checking the time and offering a low curse when saw it.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go. It was nice seeing you again, Blaine, and nice meeting you Sam."

Sam nodded, reaching out to shake Kurt's hand. He took it, smiling pleasantly.

"I hope I'll see you around," Kurt said, more to Blaine than Sam.

"Let's just hope next time I'm sober." Blaine said.

"Aha! He admits it!" Sam grinned.

Kurt laughed again, waving to the two before backing out the door. "Bye!"

"Bye," the two other men responded in unison.

As soon as Kurt was out of sight, Sam turned back to the stage. "Alright then, it's my turn."

* * *

**A/N: **

**The song featured is Pompeii by Bastille which can be found on youtube: watch?v=F90Cw4l-8NY It's really good you should totally look it up and play it. **

**What happens next? Do Kurt and Blaine actually get past the acquaintances stage? Will Blaine be able to clear his name and get back on his feet? Will Kurt's future be revealed? Will Sam make it to Tennessee? Leave a review and maybe I'll give you a little hint ;).**


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